


Coming Home

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: Fic Prompts - Doctor Who [8]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Kid!Fic, Swearing, prompt-based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 05:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: After being away for work, the Metacrisis Doctor comes home to a warm, if not desperate, welcome from Rose, who is in need of reinforcements, having been outnumbered by a dangerous enemy.Based on a prompt.





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on a prompt list.
> 
> #41 - Sorry isn't going to help when I kick your ass!  
> #61 - Welcome back. Now fucking help me.

After a thirty-six hour zeppelin ride, all the Doctor wanted as he walked up to the door was to kiss his wife, hug his kids, and collapse on the couch.  Although… he briefly entertained a scenario in which Rose would open the door to him dressed in a little outfit, and…

Before the little fantasy could go further in his mind, it started to come true. 

Sort of.

Yes, Rose opened the door before he could even reach for the sonic, and he even got a passionate declaration of how much he had been missed, but her words weren’t _quite_ what he had in mind.

“Welcome back.  Now fucking help me.”

She spun on her heel, already yelling after the children as she marched away.

He stared after her before glancing hopefully behind him, but no dice.  The taxi was already well on its way down the street, and his only possible path was to go forward.  Still, he hesitated, listening to the sounds coming from his house.

“Oops, sorry!”  He heard one son call, and his daughter shriek in response, “Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your arse!”

That got him moving, and he stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him and dropping his bags in the entryway before heading towards the commotion.

“Oi!  What’s going on here?”

As the children all vied for his attention, talking over each other, sharing their own stories when not refuting another’s, he looked up to see his wife on the stairs, holding a bottle of wine and giving him a big thumbs up before continuing on, an extra sway to her hips.

Listening as the conversation around him, if you could call it that, devolved into insults and name calling, he wondered why he ever thought the slow path would be boring.


End file.
